by Dilly Court
She could not look him in the eye. She turned away, biting her lip. ‘His condition is the same as it was, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t need you here, Harry.’
‘You don’t need me, my dear. You never did. There is not a pennyworth of tenderness in your feeling for me. I’ve known that all along.’
He made a move to leave the room but Josie barred his way. ‘That is just not so, Harry. I – I love you.’
He looked deeply into her eyes, and a wry smile curved his lips. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘How can you say that to me?’
‘Because I know it’s true.’ He picked up his handkerchief from where it lay on the floor and he wiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘I’ve led an entirely selfish life up to now, Josie, but the ladies with whom I dallied were always worldly-wise. They were not in love with me, nor I with them.’
‘I don’t want to know about your past exploits,’ Josie said angrily. ‘I’m telling you that I love you and I need you here, by my side.’
‘When a woman tries to convince a man that she has tender feelings for him, she should look at him with love in her eyes.’
Josie grasped his hand and held it to her cheek. ‘But I do love you. I do.’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve seen more emotion in the eyes of a hardened card sharp than in yours, my dear. You fell in love with Copperstone, not with me. I’m truly sorry about your father, he’s a good man, but I can do nothing more here.’ He turned on his heel and left the room.
Josie stared after him in disbelief. In a flash of rage, she seized a porcelain figurine from a side table and hurled it at the door as it closed behind him.
Almost immediately, the door opened. Josie held her breath, thinking that it was Harry returning to tell her that he was sorry for the cruel way in which he had just spoken to her, but it was her uncle who entered the room. His patent leather shoes crunched through the shards of broken china. ‘My, my,’ he said, smiling. ‘What a little virago you are to be sure, Josie. I take it that all is not well in paradise.’
She backed away from him. ‘Shut up.’
‘That’s not the way to talk to your future protector, my pet.’ Joseph advanced on her with a lascivious look in his dark eyes. ‘I passed young Challenor in the hall. He did not look very happy, so I take it that he has resisted your abundant charms.’
‘Think what you like, you hateful man,’ Josie snapped. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘Now that wouldn’t be very kind of me, would it, my angel?’
Josie slipped past him and ran to the door, but just as she reached out to grab the doorknob Joseph spun her round to face him, pinning her to the wooden panels with his corpulent body. He placed his hands either side of her head so that she could not turn away from him and kissed her on the lips. She kicked out with her feet, but it was hard to breathe with his considerable weight pressing her to the door. She opened her mouth to cry out but he forced his tongue between her lips, and she could feel his warm saliva running down her chin. The more she struggled, the harder he pushed himself against her. She knew very well what he was doing, and as he moaned with pleasure she bit his tongue as hard as she could. He pulled away from her with a yelp of pain. ‘You little bitch.’
‘You dirty old dog,’ Josie hissed, kicking him hard on the shin. ‘If I were a man I’d kill you for that. As it is I’ll just have to tell Aunt Hermione.’
She tried to push him away but he caught her by the hair. ‘Breathe a word of this to anyone, and the moment my dear brother expires you and your mother will be out on the street.’
Josie spat in his face. ‘You are a disgusting pig. My father is not yet dead. Until that time, he is the master here and not you.’ She gave him a mighty shove, catching him off balance and made her escape. She fled from the room, tearing across the hall and up the staircase to her bedchamber. She locked herself in and paced the floor, too angry and distraught for tears. She could hardly believe what had just happened. It was like a bad dream – no, a terrible nightmare. She had been convinced that she could wrap Harry round her little finger, and that he would marry her once Kate was safely out of the way. Now it seemed that she had totally misread the situation. He really had fallen in love with Kate, and her attempts to blacken her friend’s name had backfired. Now she was the loser in the complicated game of love.
Josie paced over to the window and rested her forehead against the cool glass. What had she done? She had told a dreadful lie about her dearest friend, and she had alienated the man she wanted to marry. Her knees gave way beneath her and she slipped to the floor, covering her face with her hands as great rending sobs convulsed her whole body.
How long she stayed there, huddled against the wall with her knees drawn up to her chest and her head resting on her arms, she did not know. She must have cried herself to sleep, as time seemed to slip away from her. She came to her senses at the sound of someone hammering on her door. She raised her head, staring blearily round the room. ‘Go away.’
‘It’s Hickson. Open the door at once, Miss Josie.’
Slowly, she rose to her feet. Pins and needles shot up her legs and she hobbled slowly across the floor. She unlocked the door and opened it just a crack. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
Hickson thrust the door wide open. ‘You must come immediately.’
There was a note in her voice that brought Josie back to reality with a jerk. ‘Is it Papa?’
‘Best hurry or you’ll be too late.’ Hickson hurried off with Josie following close behind.
As she entered her father’s room, Josie knew that it was already too late. Her mother had collapsed across Sir Hector’s inert body and she was weeping. Hermione was standing at the foot of the bed, holding a lace handkerchief to her lips, and her blue eyes were swimming with tears.
Dr Smith laid a hand on Josie’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Damerell. There was nothing that I or anyone else could have done to save him. Please accept my sincere condolences.’
‘He felt no pain, Josie dear,’ Hermione whispered. ‘It was so sudden. We were sitting with him, your mama and I, and Dr Smith had just come into the room, when Hector opened his eyes and he looked up at Marguerite. I swear that his lips moved and then he closed his eyes with a deep sigh, and he was gone.’
‘Mama.’ Josie tried to raise her mother, but Marguerite clung to her dead husband as if she would never let him go. ‘Mama, please.’
Dr Smith cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps we ought to leave Lady Damerell and allow her time to grieve.’
‘He’s gone, Mama,’ Josie insisted. ‘Papa is at peace now. Come away, please.’
Hermione hurried to her side, placing her arm around Josie’s shoulders. ‘The doctor is right, Josie. Come with me, my dear. You must be strong for your poor mama’s sake.’
Josie hesitated, staring down at her mother’s prostrate figure as she wept over her husband’s body. Looking at the dead man’s face, Josie saw, not her adored father, but a stranger lying on the bed. His pale features might have been carved from Carrara marble. The spirit of the man whom she had loved and respected was gone. A shiver ran down her spine, but no tears came. She had spent her grief and she felt wrung out; withered and dry as a dead leaf. Hermione was murmuring something in her ear, but the words were all jumbled up and meant nothing. Someone was holding her hand. Josie raised her head and found herself looking into Hickson’s slate-grey eyes. ‘Come with me, Miss Josie. A lie-down is what you need.’
‘But, Hickson, I can’t leave Mama.’
‘Mrs Damerell will stay with her until I get back.’ Hickson led her out of the room. She lowered her voice. ‘Everything belongs to you now, and you must not let the servants see you weaken, even though you are grieving for Sir Hector. He would want you to be strong.’
Josie said nothing as she went slowly back to her own room. Hickson and all the servants would discover the truth soon enough.
The whole household was plunged into deep mourning. The clocks were sto
pped, curtains drawn and mirrors covered. Sir Hector’s body lay in a satin-lined oak coffin in the candlelit Blue Room on the ground floor. Everyone in the house, from the hall boy to the new master, wore unrelieved black.
The day of the funeral dawned fine and dry, with a touch of hoar frost sparkling on the bare branches of the trees. A hearse drawn by four black horses took the coffin to the village church, followed by a procession of mourners. Heavily veiled, Marguerite leaned on Joseph’s arm with Josie and Hermione walking slowly behind them. Josie held her head high in a gesture of pride and defiance. The news that she was not the heiress to her father’s lands and fortune had spread rapidly. She was no longer a person of consequence, although she knew that the villagers still held her in respect, if only for the sake of her dead father. Sir Hector had been a good landlord in his lifetime, and she knew that he would be sorely missed. She wondered whether Joseph would turn out to be half the man, although to be fair to him, he had behaved himself well since her father’s death. No mention had been made of the episode in the morning parlour, and he had not laid a finger on her since.
The villagers lined the route, the men standing cap in hand with their heads bowed, and some of the women were crying. Even the children were silent as they watched the plumed horses drawing the glass-sided hearse through the lanes to the church. As the pallbearers carried the coffin through the lychgate, Josie was suddenly aware of Kate, who was standing at the edge of the path with Molly by her side. There was no sign of Sam and that sent a barb of pain into her heart. He could have come, if only to give her a modicum of comfort. She could hardly bear to look at Kate as she drew level with her. The lies that she had told Harry lay heavily on her conscience, but Kate’s pretty face was as innocent of ill feeling as an angel’s, and as their eyes met Josie’s reserve broke. She threw her arms around Kate’s neck and gave way to a storm of weeping.
‘Don’t take on so, Josie,’ Kate whispered. ‘Sir Hector wouldn’t want you to be unhappy. He loved you very much.’
With a supreme effort, Josie drew away and fumbled for her handkerchief, but she seemed to have lost it. Kate produced a piece of ragged cotton and gave it to her. ‘Dry your eyes. It’s quite clean.’
Hickson hurried up to Josie, taking her arm in a tight grip that made her wince. ‘You’re making a show of yourself, Miss Josie. Think of your poor mama.’
Josie mopped her eyes. ‘I’m sorry for everything, Kate.’
‘Come along, Miss Josie,’ Hickson hissed, tugging at her sleeve. ‘You’re holding everyone up.’
Josie shook her hand off with an impatient frown. ‘I’ll come when I’m ready, Hickson.’ She turned back to Kate. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’
‘What is there to forgive? I don’t understand.’
‘Nothing really. I don’t know what I’m saying.’ Josie reached out to touch Kate’s hand briefly before moving on into the cool, echoing interior of the church. The scent of hothouse lilies would, she thought vaguely, forever remind her of her father’s funeral. Parson Daleymount conducted the service and the church was crammed with mourners. Those who could not get inside had to stand in the churchyard, shivering with cold, but they joined in the hymn singing with more enthusiasm than musical expertise.
Afterwards, Joseph magnanimously invited the whole village to the manor house where, he informed them grandly, tables had been set out with refreshments in the entrance hall, and several of the ground floor rooms had been opened up to the public. There was an undignified stampede as the villagers, most of whom had never set foot inside Damerell Manor, competed to get there first and sample their new lord’s hospitality.
‘Are you all right, Mama?’ Josie asked anxiously, as she helped her mother into the barouche. Showing an unusual degree of thoughtfulness, Joseph had ordered the carriage to be brought to the church so that the ladies did not have to make the journey back to the house on foot.
Marguerite was pale, but remarkably composed. She even managed a ghost of a smile. ‘I will be when this is all over, my dear.’
‘I’m sorry that I made a complete fool of myself outside the church, Mama.’
‘Don’t be silly, Josie. You’ve been so brave and strong during the last few awful days. I don’t know what I would have done without you.’ Marguerite climbed into the carriage and sat down beside Hermione.
Joseph had stayed behind to speak to Parson Daleymount, but he joined them just as Josie was about to follow her mother into the carriage. ‘Allow me, my dear,’ he said, placing one hand round her waist while he fondled her buttocks with the other. ‘Get in, my dear niece. We need to get back to the house before the hoi polloi get there and start wrecking the place.’
She gave him a withering look. ‘You invited them to the house, Uncle.’
‘So I did. Well, we need to keep the tenants sweet if I am to raise their rents.’ Joseph clambered into the barouche and sat down beside her.
She moved as far away from him as she could. ‘What do you mean, raise their rents? You can’t do that.’
‘My dear girl, I am the landowner now and I can do as I please. Poor old Hector wasn’t a very good businessman. The estate isn’t paying its way and that trend must be reversed pretty damn quickly.’
‘Joseph,’ Hermione said in a shocked voice. ‘Language, please.’
‘Sorry, my dear, but it’s true. Something must be done soon, or we’ll end up in Queer Street. You wouldn’t like that, now would you, Marguerite? I mean, good old Hector didn’t exactly leave you a rich widow, did he?’
Marguerite’s face crumpled and she buried her face in her hands.
‘Oh, Joseph, how could you be so unfeeling?’ Hermione demanded, and her bottom lip trembled.
‘You really are a pig, aren’t you?’ Josie hissed. Not that either her mother or Hermione could have heard her words, as they were clinging to each other, weeping loudly.
‘Women.’ Joseph groaned. ‘One word out of place and they turn on the tears just to make a man feel bad.’
‘There was no need to rub it in,’ Josie said angrily. ‘Mama and I know that we are dependent on your charity.’
His eyes narrowed to slits, almost disappearing into his fat cheeks. ‘Yes, just bear that fact in mind, my dear Josie. You and she depend on me to keep a roof over your heads. But you are a bright girl and I’m sure we can work out a way for you to repay me for my generosity.’
‘I would sooner die than allow you to lay your filthy paws on me, Uncle.’
Hermione looked up at that moment, peering at them through her tears. ‘Joseph. What have you said to upset dear Josie?’
He placed his arm around Josie’s shoulders, hugging her to him with his fingers digging into her flesh. ‘I’m just comforting the poor little thing, Hermione. After all, I am going to be her surrogate father from now on.’
Josie gritted her teeth.
‘Oh, my dear husband, you are such a kind-hearted man,’ Hermione said, with a watery smile. ‘Marguerite, see how Joseph comforts your daughter. We will be a happy little family together, I am sure. And you, dear Josie, will be the daughter that I never had. Marguerite is already like a sister to me. We will be so happy in our lovely new home.’
‘Yes, indeed. I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ Joseph said, chuckling.
Josie had to choke back a bitter retort. For her mother’s sake, and until she had thought of a better plan, she would have to pretend that all was well. For all his bluff geniality, she knew that Joseph would be a dangerous man to cross. She could barely wait for the carriage to come to a halt before she scrambled to the ground and ran up the steps into the house, leaving Hermione to look after her mama. At least Hermione was kind; she couldn’t help being stupid.
Inside the house, Josie was surrounded by tenants and villagers, all wanting to offer her their condolences. Eventually, she made her way to the Chinese Room where she found Kate and Molly. Until this moment, Josie had never given a thought to young Molly, but now she saw her as Sam’s s
ister and suddenly she was looking at her in a new light. ‘Kate, I’m so glad you came. And you too, Molly.’
Molly’s dark eyes opened wide and she bobbed a curtsey. ‘I was sorry to hear of your sad loss, Miss Damerell.’
‘Thank you.’ Josie stared hard at her, attempting to see a likeness to Sam. If there was one, it was very subtle. Perhaps there was a similar look about the eyes, but Molly’s youthful prettiness was in sharp contrast to Sam’s rugged good looks.
‘Are you all right, Josie?’ Kate asked. ‘This must be so difficult for you.’
Josie managed a smile. ‘I’m all the better for seeing you again. I was unkind to you when we parted and for that I am truly sorry.’
‘It’s all forgotten.’
‘Shall I fetch you a glass of wine, miss?’ Molly asked shyly.
‘Yes, thank you, and I’m sure that Kate would like something too.’
Kate smiled and nodded her head. ‘A glass of cordial would be nice. Would you like me to help you, Molly?’
‘I can manage.’ Molly made her way towards the entrance hall and was soon lost in the crowd.
A feeling of deep sadness threatened to overwhelm Josie, and it was not simply the loss of her father. She realised suddenly that Kate was staring at her with a question in her eyes. ‘I’m all right, Kate. At least our friends from the village seem to be enjoying themselves.’
‘I’m afraid it’s the drink that makes them forget that this is a sad occasion.’
‘My father would not have wanted anyone to grieve for him. He liked to see people happy. Papa was a kind and generous man and I will miss him terribly.’
‘He loved you very much, Josie.’
‘Yes, I think perhaps he was the only person in the world, apart from Mama, who really loved me.’
Kate laid her hand on Josie’s arm and her eyes were filled with sympathy. ‘Sam loves you desperately. The only reason he didn’t come today was because he thought you didn’t want him here.’
‘That’s not true. I wish he had come. I didn’t mean to hurt him.’
‘But you made it quite clear that it was Harry you wanted.’